Lies Vs Truth

I have no set timeline, I wish I did, but my mind doesn’t work that way, it flows as it pleases, I have too document as I can, I am sorry there is no true flow,
Moving on

I have always been taught to tell the truth, a beating would follow what she believed to be a lie,
Whether it was the truth, if she thought it a lie, my truth never mattered, I was just a liar.

When adults would lie though, at what point is a young child to know were the truth is?
The truth doesn’t scare me, other people’s reactions do, a fear of retribution so strong,
Even if I know the truth as the truth I know it, with no concern, I fear for being accused.
Many a time I have sat, stated clearly I have evidence of my side, Yet it’s never good enough,
The evidence I have, in black and white, clearly not enough, as my name becomes once again, bad.

As a teenager, already in the throws of being sexually abused many times a week,
I remember a knock at the door one night, the door answered, I will never forget the two police officers stood there.
I was confused, My mother calm, the guy who was abusing me playing a computer game,
It was stated that, he was a known paedophile who could not be in our home, he either left of I was removed by social services.
My mother said nothing, as he stood up, stating he would leave the home, no questions,
My heart beating fast, I felt like finally, this was my escape, was this over finally?
He promised not to return, my safety his concern. The police escorted him from the home,
Finally was this over? My mother still barely speaking a word.
3 days later, I return from school, I find him sat back at the table, not word uttered,
I internally freak out, I run to my room, what is going on?
I ask my mother later, she states he isn’t a concern, states he wouldn’t go near me.
I wanted to scream out, but her face told me to keep quiet, I leave to go to my room,
This wasn’t over, what was next, was he angry, was he OK, I prayed for my safety.
It wasn’t long before the abuse soon started again, this time less, but still there.

Just a couple of years later, I braved up the courage to speak to my mother. She was sat at the end of the dining room table, I approached her, said I need to talk to you. She said OK, what is it?
I stated *X* had been abusing me for years, I couldn’t cope any more, help me. I went in for a hug, Hoping for reassurance. I was met with cold arms, I was met with cold words, I hear
*don’t lie, he only has convictions for hurting young boy’s*
I replied, *but it’s true*
*Don’t ever fucking lie to me again, esp after all he has done for us*

It was then I realised fully, my life, my words, my being meant nothing, what was the point,
I was a sex toy to be used and abused, I was someone to beat on when someone was angry,
In that moment, I learned a mothers love is never born with a child, it cannot grow, it simply exists or it doesn’t.

My life went into one that was not of my choosing, but led by abuse, a path I was, by then used to, I knew nothing else, I accepted it, My life as a teenager and child was over, I was thrown into a world that started to lead me down the path of self destruction.
A path I still don’t regret, as it’s the only path I can control.

This aside, at what point can a child learn to speak the truth, when the truth is ignored,
When an adults truth no matter how blinkered is the only truth there is,
Refusing to see what is in front of them.
I respect when lies are truly lies, but when the truth is seen as a lie, what does this do for the future of the person who are bringing into this world, guiding into adult hood.
Does that adult not realise the lasting effect it has on someone? that this shape’s their tomorrow, their future.
Their simple moment of *don’t lie* will last them a life time,
Or did I really imagine the abuse, am I really lying? I no longer know what is right,
I no longer understand what is safe to speak.

I just know

I am not afraid